Fandom NIGHTFALL. ー IC.

[nocchi]

GLaDOS

There was a recollection, so distant yet so clear as GLaDOS reflected on it in the blacks of Her vision; blanketed by shut eyelids. She recalled as numbers flickered across the same sight of blackness, a chaotic array of them. In the midst of binary were random phrases, those Her consciousness had remembered in Her last moments, as well as those that had helped Her to function. For how long had She been in stasis? Even now She wasn't sure, although it had felt like eons since then. When She had ventured to the surface, it had gone to ruins; those cornfields replaced by plants that oozed with an unnatural substance dripping from equally foreign growths. GLaDOS thought about the new reality that She had become bound to, remembering it all as Her golden eyes were now open.

Her limbs felt not as stiff as they had when She first awoke from Her 'slumber', one of Her legs extending toward the floor in a delicate point, allowing Her toes to point as if readied to descend. And descend She did as the wires plugged into Her chassis extended Her towards the floor as if on cue, soon detaching from the port they had been plugged into, allowing Her free range of movement now.

With the newly acquired freedom, GLaDOS—with her usual heavy footfalls on tainted laboratory tiles, resounding gently as a thud—walked down a series of hallways, entering an elevator at the end of one of them. Without having pressed a button, the elevator—with a blood-curdling creak of rust—made its slow descent downwards until its doors opened. Revealed before Her was an open space, taken up by large identical crates; dangerously tilted crates and suspended by wire in midair, although some others balancing atop each other to stay lying upright. The common theme, was that all of them were docked with a rail to be mobile and capable of movement and rearrangement. She skillfully leapt from one to the other until She got to one just a bit farther in the back. She looked down at the boy, who looked all too comfortable for Her own preference. He looked... happy. More so than when they had first met, that is; it made Her sick.

<:: Oh. You're still here. ::> Came Her low voice, its sound expressing blatant disappointment within its robotic buzz. <:: I even left the door to your Aperture Science Relaxation Chamber open in hopes you would manage to run away and leave. ::> She paused, although not long enough for the other to comment without interrupting. <:: Forever, preferably. ::> She stared down at the boy for a few moments longer, in a returning silence, albeit, a temporary one, for she would continue to speak again. <:: You know, Number Five, ::> Her tone came out deeply with an acerbic undertone, and although maintaining a mostly straight face, her tone had an implied sneer. <:: There are some really beautiful flowers on the surface, ::> It was then that Her voice become noticeably more sly, that electronic rumble deepening as it continued. <:: Why don't you go pick them? A bouquet of them even. I want to see how I'd be able to reproduce them... for science. ::> She bit off the lattermost word with an audible clack, her robotic vibrato becoming more intense as it left Her.

She plucked him up by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the bed with great ease. <:: You're leaving. Today. ::> She firmly said, staring intensely into his eyes. <:: Where would you prefer your next location to be? The Incinerator or the surface? You're my guest. It's only fair for you to pick. ::> There's another brief pause, only the gentle whirring at Her chest being audible. <:: Though, if you were to ask me what my preference is, I'd naturally choose the incinerator. ::> Now, She speaks in a pleased purr as if satisfied by the thought.

interacting with Five - jump.
voiceclaim.​

KUSURIURI

The sun had barely just begun to rise over the treelines; its rays discoloring the skies with the gentle golden of dawn. A seldom slumbering man of alabaster skin looked to it through the transparent ceiling of his greenhouse. Blossoming green and purples surrounded him in the space of this structure, whose sides were concealed by an array of ofuda charms covering the entirety of its length. The ceilings, however, were rendered open, allowing the sun to shine through and cast itself on the plants. His eyes would avert to the still peaking sun, instead opting to look to the various herbs lied out before him. A thin kiseru pipe rested between his middle and fore finger, its metal tip resting between slightly pursed lips. He drew from it silently whilst eyes raked over the flora which stood before him, leaves draped all about.

His eyes, however, would shoot to a slightly enlarged height, seemingly with shock.

With a quick gasp, he extended a hand, paper amulets would roll out from the shadowed depths of his sleeves draped over his arms. They flew from his fingertips, planting themselves onto the shape of the plant, forming around it until it was entirely constricted by the tailsman. Although formerly only of white, the talisman soon adorned peculiar inscriptions of black. It was the same appearance as what he had wrapped the greenhouse's exterior in. Its interior, however, was almost entirely free of the ofuda—only now being present on the infectious plant.

The greenhouse's interior was of glass slightly frosted with age, a shatter visible in a couple of places. There was an open hole, although it was meticulously covered by the paper. Low shrubs were plentiful, most of them finding support on the tables or one of their legs, and then scaling the walls as vines, eventually finding support in each other until they even draped themselves across various places in the ceiling. Not even the Medicine Seller was aware of how long those vines had spent growing, nor how long the greenhouse had been abandoned for before he took it over for his occupational craft. He had waited numerous days for the owner to return, though they never came.

Now, the Apothecary had begun to grow his own plants in the structure, carrying them in one of the various drawers of his medicinal chest when the timing was right.

He had begun to cough gently from the abrupt inhalation of smoke from when he gasped, although it eventually dispersed into silence again. When it had, the man bore a relieved face, a sigh escaping now slightly parted lips. "I should monitor my herbs even more closely from now on.." His own voice dispersing the silence as he made the note to himself aloud. "If that spore spreads, then.." Movement. From the blurs of his peripheral vision. With great haste, the Apothecary's eyes flickered to what he had just seen move. "Oh?" Came his baritone voice again, although this time in a hum as if curiosity piqued. He turned with a gentle shuffle, the teeth of his geta sandal audibly digging into the ground beneath.

In a slow but confident stride, he'd leave the greenhouse, eyes never once leaving the place where he had seen movement. When he left the greenhouse, the door automatically shut, its front also covered in the same ofuda charms as the sides of its exterior.

Bearing the weight of the wooden chest on his back, he began to trudge forth, eyes flickering side to side.

Although clad in the weight of his kimono, the air still nipped at his cheeks and the tips of his ears as if helping to keep him from getting comfortable; keeping him on alert. The sun was getting higher now, and the skies were shifting from tinted with amber to becoming a mere gradient for a more dim grey, whose color—or lack thereof, really—was a mirror of the grim reality.

The more he ventured into the city from his comfort of the greenhouse, the more vibrant lights stuck out from the tops of doorframe, the [lights] strung in various directions to form words or logos. There hadn't been any infected encounter thus far. None alive. At least, as alive as they could get, that is. They were only visible in the form of stilled corpses, occasionally streaming across the floor. That means someone had taken care of them. Just as he took note of that silently, movement came again. He turned his head in the respective direction, watching silently although with great interest. What was that moving?

open for interaction.
voiceclaim​

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​

 

[jump.]

NUMBER FIVE

mood

irritable

outfit

here

location

aperture laboratory

tags

nocchi

It was a rare occurrence for him to wake feeling rested. He was used to exhaustion, used to having to push his body to it's limits, used to a heaviness in his limbs, a deep circles of ebony under his eyes. It was a foreign feeling, to feel energy in his body, buzzing beneath his skin. It was a pleasant feeling, in all honesty. He felt refreshed. Alert. Aware. His ears tuned into low thumps in the distance, the sound seemingly echoing throughout his head, a frown of displeasure creeping onto his face. What the hell was that? He knew that he wasn't alone in this place, he'd met with the other occupant earlier, regarded her presence and disapproval at his own presence with a deadpan expression and jumped away.

He didn't give a shit about lectures. Or whatever it was she'd had to say. He was glad not to be alone, sure. He didn't think he could survive another apocalypse on his own. Solitude had driven him mad enough in the forty five years he'd spent in that isolated hellscape, he did not wish to lose anymore sanity than he already had.

Maybe it was her, making that damn racket.

"...Doubt I'll get any more sleep." The words were spoken under his breath, eyes flicking about the room momentarily before resting upon the backpack he'd set down beside the bed. He leant over the edge, hands already rummaging about the contents inside, lips pulled into a tight snarl as that noise seemed to grow increasingly loud, almost deafening him.

Five tried his best to ignore it. Although it was hard, when it felt like someone was jackhammering through his damn skull. Even Luther's snoring wasn't that fucking noisy.

His supplies still seemed to be in tact, his small hoard of edible items, his knife -well, his brothers knife, Diego was probably infuriated by the fact it had gone missing. The thought of it brought a smile to his lips- and a single bottle of water. Good. That bitch hadn't stolen anything off him. Although, part of him doubted she'd need his supplies, anyway. What would a robot want with food, anyway?

He stiffened at the sound of that voice, that seem robotic harmony that made him want to puncture his own damn eardrums. Eyes snapped upward, gaze tightened into a glare, lips pulling back into a snarl. "And freeze to death?" The words were spoken in a sarcastic bark and he dropped the backpack, pulling up into a seated position, hands fisting at the covers of the bed, fingers curling around the fabric with a deathgrip. "In case you hadn't noticed, shit-heel, I'm wearing shorts." He was cut off before he could speak again, his eyes flashing at her words, fixing her with a steady glare, expression becoming blank.

"I don't recall ever telling you my name."

Five was aware of the tension that had crept into his limbs, of the fact that his hand was slowly edging towards the side of the bed, to the floor where the bag sat. He shortly stopped the movements, stilling. Green eyes remained on her, simply staring, eyebrows knitted tightly together. "It's nice to know I'm still famous, at least." He spoke with a sneer that mirrored the robots own, lips stretched into a mock grin. "You'd think people would stop caring about you after a thousand years. I guess people love me everywhere I go." He continued to speak, ignoring the others words, stretching out his limbs with an exaggerated grunt. "If you don't know how to reproduce them, you're obviously not a very good scientist." Sarcasm dripped from his mouth, arms coming to cross over his chest. The mock grin widened. "Or a good gardener."

The grin briefly disappeared off his face as she grabbed him, lifted him, eyes widening for a split-second before his prior expression returned. "Y'know, intimidation isn't going to work on me." Five's hand raised to grasp at GlaDOS's own, long fingers wrapping around her wrist, attempting to pry off her grip. "I'm not scared of you, asshole. You're nothing more than an oversized microwave." He released his own grip as he realised his chosen method of escape was proving futile, meeting her gaze with a dry glare. "I've met piles of shit scarier than you."

His hands glowed as he tore open a portal, shortly disappearing from GlaDOS's grasp in a flash of blue, reappearing beside the bed with his backpack in his hands. His eyes settled on her once more as he slung the bag over his shoulder, offering a smug grin. "This is the only decent shelter I've come across. I'm not leaving. So, why don't you go and make yourself useful and fuck off?" Pause. "For science."

coded by reveriee.